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100 Dark Hallways

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"Which way?" he asks himself, reaching the proverbial fork in the road. In one hand he held Destiny, his pale fingers tightly curled around the hilt. In the other, Sanity lays withering, wilting on palm already skinned, numbed up,

bleeding--

"Which way?" he asks himself again, one part losing conviction as rising temper lays waste to his soul, shuddering, screaming,

crashing as grip slowly slips--

"Which way?!" he howls, one hand rising, striking,

winning--

The path less traveled fades into the horizon. Sanity, defeated, lets out one final howl at the moon,

as Destiny hacks away into the bloody sunset--

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